


Kill Switch

by GhostHost



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Double Agents, Forced Bonding, Forced Relationship, Hurt and comfort, Mind Control, Slave coding, Slavery, Slaves, Warnings in fic, Wherein Optimus gets dumped with two traumatized mechs andis determined to save them, all the feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: Optimus Prime has always assumed Megatron’s final words to be worthy of the poet he once was, If not something damnably haunting.He was not prepared for anything like this.“Soundwave and Starscream are yours, Prime. Enslaved to you as they were to me. Do not think that erases the orders I have given them. They alone have access to the codes that control the destruction of Cybertron. Choose. Your ideals and their lives, knowing it will murder our species? Or their deaths? The murder of two innocents, sacrificed so all can live?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this should be on Tumblr because I very much only wrote the parts I wanted to write, but meh. It was long and ya'll will like it : P 
> 
> Warnings: Like all my fucked up fics, this one gets alll the warnings. Mentions of rape, non-con, slavery, forced bonding/coding/relationships, torture, (unwilling/forced) BDSM, fights to the death, PTSD, scars, kidnapping, invasive medical procedures, complete lack of consent, significant mental/emotional trauma, mentioned forced pregnancy (on behalf of Soundwave, none of it's in this fic but it happened prior and is referenced), etc. 
> 
> I'm leaving this open to multiple chapters with the warning that I started this two years ago, and I've got a bunch of bits that are just all over the story that I'm not sure I want to expand on. We'll see and all that.

“Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.”

-E.E Cummings

* * *

 

There are some nuances of war that were only understood by certain people. Aspects of it that have evolved beyond the norm and into something specific. Rivalries, grudges, understandings, things that went beyond the badge one wore.

In the case of Optimus Prime and Megatron, the battles they fought were not just physical, but personal. Many forgot that Prime and Megatron had known each other before the war, had aided each other in its very start--and that aspect of their relationship had grown into something extremely unhealthy. Something not even Prime could fully put into words and often shamed him when he tried--because he felt it sounded so  _petty_ when spoken aloud. How easily Megatron could get to him. How easily he understood his enemy. How he knew just what Megatron was trying to do, and how hard he rebelled against it.

There was a reason Prime had always named him as his brother.

“We would be great--and will be great--as soon as you learn how worthless your ideals truly are.”

Some variation of that was spoken during every encounter, no matter how small. How Optimus was the one who had strayed from the path, how he single-handedly was destroying Cybertron due to stubbornness and pride.

It grated. More so than Optimus would ever admit.

There were many reasons the Prime refused to kill Megatron. Most of them were simply practicing what he preached; forgiveness, kindness, patience. Privately, it was because killing him would invalidate everything he’d ever told the warlord.

The giant aft would take it as the win it was, and would gloat all the way to the pit about it.

That fight was wrapped in several others, all of them twisted up against each other, morphing into a creature on it’s own throughout the vorns. Every battle the two leaders fought had a slant to it. An edge. Every encounter was carefully calculated, planned out so that Megatron would try and bait Optimus into failing, while Optimus, forever trying to make a brick wall personality see reason.

It was dumb. It was childish.

It was why it surprised them both when Megatron misstepped.

Technically, the fault lay with Soundwave. Optimus had seen the mech miscalculate before, of course he had, but the sight was a rarity. This late in the war, an almost impossibility. The tactician hadn’t made a mistake for more than half the war.

Looking back, it made a lot more sense when you realized it wasn’t one.

The result of it caused Megatron’s new weapon to backfire, the giant laser throwing several mechs in the air with the resulting explosion.

Megatron had swung his canon right before it, primed and ready to fire. In return, Optimus had raised the broken sword he’d stolen off of Starscream earlier in the battle in his defense.

And then the rioting ground promptly threw them both off balance.

The result was a freak accident, the kind you thought would never happen to you. Megatron had twisted slightly as he fell. Optimus hadn’t bothered to catch himself, instead focusing on knocking the canon out of the way as he crashed down. They grappled for a brief second, grey on red and blue, then Optimus’s back hit the ground and Megatron jerked, an odd grunt escaping his mouth.

For the longest time neither of them moved, both of their optics tracking down, to discover the sword had gone directly through Megatron’s spark. The death wasn’t instantaneous, they were both too stubborn for that. No, Megatron forced the universe and Primus himself to give him more time, just enough to lean down and whisper his final, parting plans.

Just in enough time, to laugh at Optimus’s look of horror right before he passed.

“Decepticons! Retreat!” Soundwave called immediately after. He himself didn’t though. Neither did Starscream, the two standing next to each other, gazing upon the body of their dead leader.

In the abrupt silence that followed, Starscream’s sneer morphed into a face blank enough to match Soundwave’s mask.

“Hello Master.” The two said as one.

“Fuck.” Was all their new Master, one Optimus Prime, could manage to say back.   


xXx

When you fight a war for millions of years, you don’t really expect it to end. Pause perhaps, but never truly die. Not until every influential player on the battlefield had perished.

When you fight a war for millions of years and spend a good chunk of it serving alongside your factions very leader, your vision is warped even more. You begin to think, after vorns and vorns of battles, that Optimus and Megatron will  _never_  die. They’ll come close, but never for long and never without some kind of dramatic comeback. You begin to forget things, like luck, or karma, or the basic laws of physics. You begin to think that the titans you serve under, the famous figureheads, are immortal, invincible, and that you’re all just going to keep going until some unknown, higher power finally takes everyone out.

You begin to think they are immortal, immune, incapable of dying.

Which is precisely why no one interfered when Megatron did just that.

Die.

“Repeat, again, what his words were exactly.”

It’s the third time Prowl’s asked that question and no one can blame him for it. Because this wasn’t the kind of situation any of them had foreseen, wasn’t something they’d ever thought they’d have to face.

What’s worse is the stricken look on their leaders face.

“Soundwave and Starscream are yours, Prime. Enslaved to you as they were to me. Do not think that erases the orders I have given them. They alone have access to the codes that control the destruction of Cybertron.” Optimus repeated dully, as though the words didn’t slice through him, didn’t give him a vision of Megatron’s red optics, glowing with insanity and glee, energon dripping out his mouth as he revealed his final act.

“Choose. Your ideals and their lives, knowing it will murder our species? Or their deaths? The murder of two innocents, sacrificed so all can live?” He finished. He didn’t need to specify what his ideals Megatron was referencing. He’d been spouting the whole “freedom is the right of every sentient being” line so much the humans put it on a banner.

With the kind of rabid focus only dogs and Prowl could conjure, the tactician turned to the two mechs seated at the end of the command table. “Explain your orders.” He demanded.

He got a blank stare and one sickeningly sweet smile back.

“We don’t know them.” Starscream told him with a look of smug glee.

“Do _not_  play with me.” Prowl spat, hands gripping the edge of the table hard enough to make it creak. “What are you orders?”

“Starscream: Correct.” Soundwave said, before his companion could piss anyone off further. “Exact mentioned orders: Unknown. Mast--” His vocalizer choked, face somehow managing to look surprised despite the masks he wore. “Lord Megatron,” He continued, cautiously, only continuing when it was clear he could; “Gave thousands of orders.”

“He gave you thousands of orders and you can’t figure out which one’s supposed to destroy the planet?” Ironhide growled, disbelief ringing through every word.

Soundwave’s helm turned to him, just enough to let the van know he was being addressed. “Lord Megatron: Gave thousands of orders for the destruction of the planet.” He corrected.

To the right of Optimus, Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a human gesture meant to starve off headaches and did absolutely nothing for his own, but he tried anyway.

“But if we kill the two of you, whatever he’s set up won’t work.” Jazz said, as though he was talking about going to the store and not death and destruction.

“Yes.” Soundwave said, right behind Optimus immediate;

“We don’t know that.”

“Megatron said it.” Prowl pointed out, but his glare was still trying to burn a hole through Starscream’s smirk.

“Are we takin’ Megatron at his word now?” Jazz countered, likely just to get under Prowl’s plating.

“No.” Optimus said, before Prowl could turn his anger on the spymaster. “No.” He repeated, more firmly. “We’re going to figure this out, without killing anyone.”

Starscream leaned his head on his hands, smirk growing into a full blown grin. “Good luck.” He purred.

It was only Ratchet’s hand on Prowl’s thigh that prevented his immediate murder.

xXx

They’re back in the medbay. They’d gone there first of course, so Ratchet could verify the supposed slave coding. Check to make sure neither of them were carrying some kind of biologic-inspired weapon, or bomb. Both ‘Cons had checked out, though their immediate surrender to it had unnerved everyone in the room.

Now they were doing a more thorough dive, in attempts to figure out just what it was Megatron had inflicted on the two of them.

Or were trying to, anyway. Starscream wasn’t cooperating.

“I said no.” He snarled, fingers transforming to claws and back. Ratchet wasn’t giving ground, arms crossed over his chest, a wrench in hand. “You’ve already been in my head, medic. You don’t need a second go at it.”

“We didn’t go at it the first time!” Ratchet shot back, frustrated. They’d been in here ten minutes and had gone in about as many circles, with Starscream refusing to let the Autobot have access back into his code.

Ironhide, who’d come along for everyone’s “protection” and Jazz, who’d came because he forever needed to know everything, stood at various points in the room, both casually tossing in arguments when it suited them.

Two more rounds of swearing, insults, and Starscream looking closer and closer to murder later, and Optimus had enough.

“Quiet!” He bellowed. Everyone--Starscream included-- froze at the appearance of his rarely heard “battle voice.”

“Starscream, that is enough. You will sit down and you will let Ratchet examine you, quietly.” Optimus continued, in his normal voice. The words had barely left his mouth did he start regretting them. Starscream’s mouth snapped closed and he practically fell on the berth.

Just as he’d been ordered too.

Damn it.

“Everyone out.” Optimus said, tone suddenly weary. Starscream moved to rise, and Optimus was quick to add; “Not you, Starscream. Stay. You as well Soundwave.” He gave a pointed look towards his TIC and Weapons Master, both of whom stubbornly refused to move for a touch longer.

Sensing their Prime’s anger, and knowing Ratchet wasn’t included in the order to leave, the two finally slinked out--to stand directly on either side of the door, should anything go remotely wrong.

As silence finally descended upon the medbay, Optimus turned on the two mech’s who’d introduced themselves on the battlefield as his slaves. Nothing was said. Instead, Optimus spent some time trying to figure out the best approach to the questions he had--and the answers he thought he knew.

“Soundwave, can both of you answer me honestly?” He started. It had occurred to him more than once they may have been ordered to lie. With the slave coding having been confirmed by Ratchet, anything was on the table.

Anything at all.

“Yes.” The mech responded instantly. He was sitting on the berth next to the one Starscream stood defiantly over, watching the argument with seemingly little interest.

“Can you lie to me?”

Talking to Soundwave felt a bit like talking to a brick wall--Optimus couldn’t read any emotion off him whatsoever.

“One of us can.” He responded, and thus, the first game was one.

Thankfully, this was a game Megatron had set up just to be contrary, and one he hadn’t thought through very well. Before Optimus could even bother to ask; Starscream rolled his optics and spoke.

“Don’t waste time. I can lie.”

“I cannot.” Soundwave clarified. Then; “Master can prove this.”

Something he would do, because insuring this wasn’t a trick or trap could save them all later.

With an apologetic look at Ratchet, Optimus asked a question only a handful of mechs knew--one he knew Soundwave did that Starscream did not.

“What was the name of Ratchet’s Conjux before the war?”

“Giant fragging idiot.” Starscream answered, followed by Soundwave’s monotone;

“Drift.”

“Starscream,” Optimus turned, directing this question only to the seeker; “What name did Drift take on after the war?”

 _Oof,_ the glare his CMO sent him. Optimus couldn’t even look in his direction, it was cutting.

Another optic roll from Starscream. “Dead mech, if he had any sense.”

“Soundwave?”

The carrier answered easily. “Deadlock.”

That got a reaction out of Starscream, though he was fast enough to hide it. It was what Optimus was looking for though. An honest, legitimate reaction, uncontrolled by the code.

Finally; “Is Deadlock an undercover agent?”

“Negative, per Lord Megatron’s orders.”

“Per his orders?” Ratchet asked, picking up on the implications immediately.

“Lord Megatron: Does not believe Deadlock is a double agent.”

Quietly, in a voice that sounded like it was on the verge of hysteria, Starscream said; “Frag, I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

“Do you believe he is?” Optimus pressed.

Soundwave’s visor flickered. “Soun--” He got out before a static screech cut him off. He appeared to try again, with a choked; “Negati--” Before he bowed over, hands gripping the edge of the berth hard enough to dent.

 _“Htzz_ \--” He tried again, the sound pained.

“Soundwave?” Optimus asked in alarm, taking a few steps closer. Ratchet was right behind him.

Starscream, examining his comrade as one would examine a mildly interesting bug said; “Conflicting orders. The code is punishing him.”

Frag. Though Optimus. “For what?” He demanded, as Soundwave’s vents spun up wildly, his vocalizer wheezing.

Starscream just shrugged.

“Soundwave, you don’t have to answer.” Optimus ordered, hoping it would be enough to stop the code. Something was beginning to smell like burning metal, and it horrified him to know it was coming from Soundwave--over something he had asked.

With a gasp, Soundwave’s helm came up.

“Thank you, Master.” He said quietly, in between vents.

Ratchet already had a piece of armor off, working diligently against whatever punishment the coding had inflicted.

“Soundwave, you don’t have to answer my questions if they will--” He cut himself off before he could say “cause you pain.” He knew Megatron. Knew how the tyrant thought. That order would no doubt trigger something terrible.

“-activate prior coding.” He finished lamely. He’d figure out a better phrase later, once they all had a better understanding of his this bullshit worked. “Did he order you not to question him about Drift?” Optimus guessed.

He got a slow nod in response, along with a curse from Ratchet.

“Can you answer questions from me?” Ratchet grumbled, placing blue armor back on and coming to stand in front of Soundwave. Again, the carrier nodded.

“Has your body been entirely rewired to harm you if the coding demands it?” There was no cursing that time, just a quiet tone that immediately put Optimus on edge. It was Ratchet’s “Bad Shit’s Happening” voice, as Sideswipe so eloquently named it.

It’s appearance didn’t bore any good news.

“Correct.” Soundwave said, sounding slightly less pained.

“We’re going to have to be very careful how we proceed.” Ratchet said, aloud blatantly turning to Optimus. Over comms, he added ::They’re entirely at mercy to the code in them. It could very well self destruct if we push them too far.::

Of course it could. Optimus eyed Starscream and his reluctance in a new light, cursing himself for not thinking of it before.

Not for the first time, he silently damned Megatron.

They had a lot more questions to ask. Things to figure out. They weren’t going to be able to go through all of them tonight, nor would Ratchet get all the data he wanted. They needed to keep going though, and so, they did.

It wasn’t until an hour later, when all four parties were exhausted and furious, that Optimus got the courage to ask Starscream the one question he’d been avoiding. 

“Answer me honestly. How much of your personality has been created?”

Starscream smiled. It wasn’t a good smile-it was one tinged with pain, with near-insanity. “All of it.” The seeker spat. Optimus shut his optics.

He’d been afraid of that.

xXx

The Prime’s habsuit is nothing like Megatron’s. It’s small, the walls (thankfully) a dull silver rather than the Ark’s obnoxious orange. It contains a small, private wash rack, an equally small living area, and a bedroom.

The bedroom, contains the only similarity between the two mechs, in the form of a berth that could fit an entire gestalt team on it.

“Why I never would have guessed our beloved Prime enjoys orgies too.” Starscream says with his patented sneer. “Here I thought you had to remain _chaste.”_

Optimus doesn’t rise to the bait, is too busy trying to figure out how to pitch the sleeping arrangements. His team had thrown an absolute fit but after witnessing how the code could backfire, he wasn’t taking any chances.

If Starscream and Soundwave needed to recharge in close physical proximity to him, then it wouldn’t kill him to recharge on his couch.

That did mean they’d have to recharge next to each other though, and Optimus wasn’t certain how well that was going to fly.

But first, he has something to do.

“I want to apologize. To both of you.” He began, because you had to start somewhere.

Clearly that wasn’t what either ‘Con was expecting, but Starscream’s quick to recover with a sneer. Optimus knows where the seeker believes this conversation is going, and continues before he can interrupt.

“I never realized he had others playing the game. I thought it was just the two of us.” He looks both of them in the optic, one after the other. “I was foolish. I knew what lengths he would go to win, and I did not think them through. I should have paid closer attention in the beginning. I would have caught this if I had. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t give yourself that much credit. Your apologies are meaningless.” Starscream snaps. He’s face doesn’t exactly match his words, and Optimus takes a stab in the dark and explains himself further.

“He always talked about politics casually. Always referred to it as a game. Managed to get into my head, a few times.” He doesn’t say how, leaves that up to be interpreted however either mech wished. Maybe one day he’ll explain that part further but for now, he let’s that part of his past stay buried. “I’ll do everything I can to save you both.”

“Whatever makes you sleep better.” Starscream snips, but that disconnect is still there. Optimus can’t tell if he’s imagining it now that he knows the personality before him is created.

He can hope though.

It’s all he can do.

xXx

They are going through the motions of going to bed, and automatically, Soundwave’s hands reach up to retract his masks.

“You can keep them on.” Optimus’s says, stopping him. “You can choose when to take them off.” Not “if it makes you more comfortable” or “not when you’d like”--because Megatron had protocols in place for those, mind games he played that made every choice feel like it wasn’t one.  

Soundwave almost leaves them on. The desire is strong, so strong he has to fight to remember why he wanted to take them off at all. It’s an old curiosity, and likely, he realizes, something that will hurt him when it doesn’t go as he’d like it too--but he needs to know.

Know more than ever, he needs to know.

The hand resumes its movement, pressing the manual release for the mouthpiece, and then moving up to his temple, to unveil his optics. Barefaced, he stares at his new Master.

Optimus stares back.

Soundwave can’t read his mind. Had orders against it, and the very thought of doing it punished him in such a way that he did his best to pretend he simply couldn’t. Optimus had asked him too in the first debriefing, when Ratchet was still trying to scan his body and Prowl was determined to try and discover how this could be a trap.

Optimus had caught on by then though, and in a misguided attempt at reassurance, had asked Soundwave to read his mind.

“Can’t.” He’d whined in returned, the coding seething at the very thought, making him panic. _“Please.”_ He’d added pleadingly, as everything started to burn.

Optimus had relented immediately, and so far, had not asked him for a repeat.

Thus he can’t know what his Master is thinking now. If he is simply staring at a face he’s never seen since it presented itself as Soundwave, or if he is admiring what the tactician knows to be a “pretty” face. Hope has begun to fall, and the chiding sets in because it was so long ago, of course Optimus wouldn’t remember--

Except his Master surprises him. “I know you.” He says, in that slow, careful way. The one Soundwave thinks, means he’s puzzling out something.

He can’t confirm or deny. Just stares. Hopes.

Optimus leaves him dangling for longer than Soundwave cared for, letting the hope swell and swell until he’s not sure he can take it if his Master can’t figure it out. The Prime proves quicker than even Megatron could anticipate, and, despite all the things working against him, against this, recalls.

“The Carrier that went missing near the start of the war, in Centair V.”  He says, shocked, leaning forward as if he’s not sure he believes it. “The one that defended the sparkling center. That was you.” Then, optics growing rounder as it set in; “You were one of _ours._ An Autobot.”

Relief. Relief so bright it hurts, and Soundwave can’t help but cave in on himself. His Prime remembered him! The one thing he’d hoped for, the one thing he dreaded should he ever be unmasked--he had been recognized for the real person he was. Not the fake one Megatron had forced him to be. Not the silent, mindless, drone-like TIC, but _himself._

A sob racked him before he could stop it, and in an instant, his new Master was there.

Optimus came to him, struggling to get an upset field under control. The coding didn’t like that, just as the coding didn’t like the Prime’s hovering hands. Logically, he knew it was because Optimus wasn’t sure if Soundwave wanted to be touched. Illogically, the coding insisted it was because he wasn’t worth being touched.

“Can--” Optimus started, only to be met with an immediate, sobbed;

_“Yes.”_

The hands land on his shoulders, but Soundwave falls into the truck entirely. He’s a large mech, and far too old to be seeking out comfort by hiding in another’s embrace, but the Prime is large too, and the coding has long interpreted any touch at all as a good one.

Wanting a hug, to be held, is a lot better than being forced to crave a punch.

Optimus accepts him, his weight willingly. His arms go around the Carrier’s shoulders, and after a moment begins to rock in a soothing manner.

Somehow, despite all the coding, all the rules and mind games, Soundwave manages to get out a quiet, awed; “You _remembered.”_

Optimus hugs him tightly, chin resting on top of his helm. “I always recognize one of my own.” He says. Then, as if the words didn’t matter, as if they didn’t mean the world to Soundwave, he says; “Welcome home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to update way faster than I thought! It's me though so no one get used to it haha. 
> 
> For those who have read my other fics, this one is different in that it's super self indulgent. Totally wrote poor OP, SW and Stars into a corner lol, but I'm enjoying their ride down to hell > : D 
> 
> Warnings: Like all my fucked up fics, this one gets alll the warnings. Mentions of rape, non-con, slavery, forced bonding/coding/relationships, torture, (unwilling/forced) BDSM, fights to the death, PTSD, scars, kidnapping, invasive medical procedures, complete lack of consent, significant mental/emotional trauma, mentioned forced pregnancy (on behalf of Soundwave, suicide idealization, none of it's in this fic but it happened prior and is referenced), etc.

You say you always keep your word  
Show me what you're after  
\--There for Tomorrow 

* * *

Starscream hates it.

Himself, this situation, Megatron, Optimus.

Hates all of it. 

He feels like a rat in a cage, trapped between four walls and forever getting electrocuted if he takes a step out. The emotion consumes him, rolls around with the coding, the need to escape forever being punished by an inflicted feeling of more self hatred. They build on top of each other, so heavily entwined that they often merge into one thing. 

He doesn’t need the coding for that anymore. Doesn’t need it for anything really. It’s long since screwed him up. Damaged him in a way he knows he’ll never come back from. After all the fighting, all the centuries of struggles, of somehow playing right in Megatron’s hands, over and over again, Starscream finally let’s himself admit defeat. Sits in the Prime’s habsuit, and accepts his fate. 

Megatron won.

He’s broken. 

It took a long time for Megatron to get him to this point. The rules he had placed on the Starscream were much harsher than the ones Soundwave initially had. He’d fought a lot harder though, had even at times, succeeded. In small ways that only mattered to him, but a win was a win. A sign that he would always fight, down to his last vent cycle. 

It seemed stupid, now. 

For his struggles against the coding, against Megatron himself, the warlord had ordered him to act out his desires. Ordered Starscream into the worst kind of hell imaginable--to attempt to take Megatron’s life, and to fail at doing it,  _ every single time. _

The result meant he was treated as a joke to the rest of the army, something Megatron took ruthless advantage of. 

How quickly they forgot his ruthlessness, his abilities. It was horrifying, how easily the real Starscream had been erased. 

He doubts even Soundwave could recall his original personality. Starscream himself had trouble remembering it. Knew it was something like it was now, sarcastic, strong, forever putting himself first. It had been blown out of proportion through the coding. Forced into a caricature, and Megatron had given him a good dosing of equally force and legitimate cowardice, the latter gained through centuries of beatings. 

It surprises him that what gets him in the end isn’t something the tyrant did directly. No, it’s the accumulation of it all--and the knowledge he’s going to be forced to do it all over again, with someone new. 

Someone similar--but different. 

That is what makes the walls feel like they’re closing in. That’s what makes him want to lay down and die. End it all. 

He knew Megatron. Knew him better than he knows himself, now. Could anticipate what would happen, knew the consequences for certain actions. He doesn’t know a damn thing about his situation now. Doesn’t know how when Autobot command will finally decide enough is enough and simply end his life. 

Doesn’t understand why Soundwave is acting like they’ve been saved. 

Oh, no one else would catch it. They’ve been left to their own devices for the moment, waiting to see how Autobot High Command will treat them today. But If there’s one thing Starscream knows besides his former Master, it’s his fellow captive. It hasn’t been a full 24 hours and Soundwave has already given in. Handed the keys to himself over to their new owner, not that the idiot’s realized it. 

He can’t imagine simply handing everything over like that. It’s against all he is. All he was programmed to be by the coding. A thought that makes him half hysterical, and so, he focuses back on Soundwave. 

He can’t fathom where the relief is coming from. Why Soundwave seems to think the Prime will be any different. Not when he and Megatron were always two sides of the same coin. As far as the seeker’s concerned, the only difference now is that they have to learn a new set of preferences. 

He paces around the hab suit, the urge to  _ move _ iching through his lines. Soundwave is seated silently on the small couch, facing a blank screen. Neither of them have bothered to turn on the entertainment center, just as neither of them have bothered to escape. There’s no point to it.

No point to life at all. 

Emotions swarmed him as he struggled once again to recall his old life. What he’d been like, done, before the coding. Nothing came to him, beyond the faintest wisps of a memory that slipped right through his fingertips. 

He couldn’t cry. The coding--Megatron--had not allowed him to cry. So he raged instead. Even now. Waiting to see what his new Master would make him do. The fury whipped through his field, poisoning everything it touched and Starscream gives in to it. Almost screams, the emotions so raw. 

Abruptly, Soundwave taps the table once, a sharp sound that brought Starscream back to the present. 

They couldn’t talk much to each other, not without the coding have a meltdown. Prevented them from plotting together, or passing on ways to circumvent the code. They weren’t stupid though. Over the years a language of sorts had developed between them, one Starscream knew as well as any he’d ever been given access to. 

It took a moment to rein in his wild field, but he managed it, right before their new Master and his entourage walked through the door. 

The tap his claw made against his thigh seemed like an after though, some meaningless, if not nervous gesture. 

Soundwave understood it as his thanks, and wordless rose, to face their fate together. 

Today was the dawn of a new day. Their first official one--as Optimus Prime’s slaves. 

xXx

 

Their Master goes with them back to the medbay. Supervises as the wretched medic once again starts the scans and tests. 

At least they’re all more cautious this round.

Out of the corner of his optics, Starscream watches as the Prime stokes Soundwave like a pet. He’s running a hand quietly down the mechs back, the traitor leaning right in to it. 

A feeling of _ need _ suddenly hits him, and Starscream forces his gaze away. Clenches his jaw as he fights it.  

_ ‘It’s just the coding. It’s nothing more than the blasted fragging coding!’  _

Telling himself that has never helped before. Just as it doesn’t help him now. Megatron was ruthless in not just the coding’s creation, but all the additional little add-ons he’d supplied over the years. Jealousy amused him, and so, Starscream was made to forever be jealous. To want what Soundwave was always given. 

That Soundwave is already the favorite here hurts. Cuts him so deep the seeker thinks he might have taken offense himself, beyond the coding. 

It’s just how his life goes.

_ “No one wanted you until I came along. No one found you impressive.” M _ egatron had told him, and back then Starscream knew that was false. But he had also been blamed for Skyfire’s death. Barred from the University and informed his frame made him useless. Seekers were always too reactive to be good for much. His acceptance had been a mistake. He’d fought and struggled and finally impressed someone who mattered, someone who could help him make a change, and he’d fallen. For Megatron--and for the grey mech’s trap. 

Once there, all Megatron had ever done was remind Starscream of how much he had failed. 

_ ‘But that’s what happens when Seekers are allowed out by themselves, isn’t it? Don’t worry. With you leading them, your kind will soon perish. I just need to use them first.’  _

By the time he’d been allowed to warn anyone, it was too late. Not even his trine, a seeker custom so old not even Megatron could get around Starscream having one, had believed him. 

He’d already been labeled by then. By Megatron and by the army as a whole. 

Crazy. Unstable. Backstabber. 

Soundwave’s vents hitch, a whine escaping his vocalizer. Their Master and Ratchet immediately focus on him, try to figure out what’s made him uncomfortable. The attention has both mechs putting their hands on him, Soundwave sitting while both hover over his helm. It’s all the touching Starscream’s been forced to crave, all the affection he’s been denied. 

The coding shoots more heat to his panel, causing his valve to clench involuntarily. A reaction Starscream knows well, both punishment and reward in and of itself. It’s purpose is to remind him that Megatron only gave attention in one way and one way only. That Starscream was only useful in bed. The arousal is supposed to make him want to give in, come crawling, and plead for release. Beg to be  _ used. _

He ignores it too, though it makes things harder. Unleashes his claws and digs holes in his own armor. 

Master doesn’t notice. Doesn’t know he’s supposed to notice, just as he doesn’t know what he’s doing at all. 

_ ‘Can you even handle his touch, if he offers it?’ _

The thought rolls through the haze of horror and heat, and Starscream ponders it like the scientist he once was. 

Ultimately, he’s not sure--and that scares him. 

Suddenly, it’s his turn. So caught up in his own thoughts the seeker doesn’t realize it until the Autobots are in front of him, and by then it’s too late to protest. With narrowed optics, he watches as Ratchet explains whatever scan he’s going to run, all the while walking closer and closer. On its own accord, Starscream’s plating clamps down, and he hates how that makes him look nervous. 

His Master comes to stand next to him, and is ignored. That was difficult when Starscream was adjusting the the coding, but he’s a million years into slavery. Working with it has become easy. 

Reading the look on his face, Ratchet tries to appeal to the scientist Skyfire revealed him to be. Promises to be careful. Starscream’s face twists up in a snort, knowing lies when he hears them. 

They don’t even know what they’re looking for--or at.

His Master touches him, a gesture meant to soothe and Starscream almost folds. Feels the fire lick his lines, arousal shooting to pool behind his panel.  

He’s heating up, and in a moment, it will be noticable. 

Cutting off his fans is easy enough. So is choking off his field. But the heat that his bodies throwing off, the pure  _ want _ cascading through his helm--that he cannot control. 

The Prime has his hand on Starscream’s shoulder like it might ground him. Help him. 

Instead it’s burning him alive. 

“-scream?” He’s saying and Primu _ s fuck, _ his Master’s asked a question. The coding’s reprimand is instant for not listening, and Starscream uses the pain to jerk himself away.

“Don’t touch me.” He spits, hauling himself backwards so fast he almost falls. 

Both Autobots freeze, his Master’s hand still in the air.

“Are you okay?” Master asks, taking a careful step after him, but in the split instant he meets Starscream’s gaze, he knows. The realization crashes across his face in a mix of emotions and horror. 

Starscream forces himself to look away. 

“Go play with Soundwave instead of me.” He snarls in defense, crossing his arms hard over his chest, retreating to the opposite side of the room. 

Ironhide, still playing guard, growls at him for this, but thankfully the other two obey. 

“If you need anything…” Master says, and is again, ignored. 

Sitting down would make him feel vulnerable, so Starscream clears part of a counter instead. Hops up on it, angles his head down and let’s his claws mark his armor. 

Feels the coding burn and tries his best to just get through it. 

xXx

Ratchet still had the ‘Cons, deep in examining the slave coding. Prowl and Jazz were pouring over intel. Ironhide was playing bodyguard, Wheeljack was trying to calm the rest of the Ark down and Red Alert was teetering on the verge of a freakout while simultaneously managing to inform every single Autobot Commander of the ongoing situation. 

Alone for the first time in 24 hours, Optimus played mental chess against a dead mech in his head. 

Megatron knew him better than anyone. That used to be hard to admit, but with all the time they had spent getting into each others processors, it had long stopped being an embarrassment. Became nothing more than fact. 

He had been close to Megatron before the war. Had shared so many ideals, thought patterns, and general personalities that Optimus knew he’d act just like the tyrant should he ever lose it. No matter how hard Ratchet protested, or told him he was being stupid. He  _ knew.  _ They were too alike. They had always been too alike.

It was why he forced such high standards on himself. Why he did his best to oppose Megatron at every turn, physically, mentally, emotionally. Prove that though they shared similar origins, they were very different, now. 

In this situation, that gave Megatron the upperhand. 

Last night had been spent talking to Ratchet over comms; coming up with list after list of questions that needed answers and waving off Ironhide’s concerns of potential murder. The weapons master had posted bodyguards outside of his door anyway, convinced his Prime was going to get attacked in the middle of the night, but Optimus knew better. 

If there existed any orders to kill him, they wouldn’t act until  _ after _ he was emotionally attached. 

Explaining how Megatron’s mind worked was a feat in and of itself. Often not even his command staff seemed to follow how Optimus so easily understood how the warlord thought. Thankfully, the idea of perverting emotional attachments was a common enough tactic that it was easy to grasp, and well within the bounds of things Megatron had done before. 

Even if Optimus knew there was more to it than that. 

Most mechs, on both sides of the war, thought Optimus remained chaste because he was the Prime. That showing favoritism by taking on any kind of bond, from Amica to Conjux, would somehow tarnish the Matrix and all it stood for. It didn’t matter that the prior Primes hadn’t followed that line of thought for the last few generations. Wartime made everyone weird, and a return to tradition made sense. 

Only those closest to him, understood it was because he feared what such attachments would bring. That people would target anyone he bonded to. Use them to hurt him, hurt the Autobots, and that any harm to them would do exactly that. Optimus couldn’t handle it, and so, he avoided it. 

Megatron knew that. 

Knew how lonely he was--as well as what he was attracted to. 

There was no doubt in his mind that orders existed that would force him to grow attached. . Anything was on the table. Sex was already going to be involved--something he’d discovered with Starscream today. 

A countdown had begun, from the second both Decepticons had been handed over to him. Not just for the destruction of the planet, which Optimus was certain was a very real threat. No the countdown was for his own demise, one Megatron was going to enact through the emotions he valued the least. 

Love. Trust. Communication. 

Not for the first time, he came to the conclusion that to get around the slave code, he couldn’t act like himself. Couldn’t ask the questions he needed to ask, in the way he wanted to. Caution would kill, permission and consent couldn’t be counted on. Starscream and Soundwave were entirely dependant on him to pull them through this, and it would take time to get either to be reliable sources of information. To get past the code, and into who they truly were. What they thought, or wanted. 

With a quiet determination,Optimus promised himself, and the two mechs who had been forced into his care, that he wouldn’t act like Megatron either. No, he was going to have to become someone entirely new to do this. Someone he may not like, but could survive being. 

Someone that could save them all. 

xXx

They day had been long. 

Apart of Soundwave was surprised that they were once again, being left alone. Certainly there were bodyguards posted outside of Master’s hab, and absolutely the coding wouldn’t let them leave, but the extent of how things worked hadn’t been explained yet. 

They couldn’t know he and Starscream couldn’t conspire against any others, or that their communication was so limited they could barely speak to one another. That they were often repelled by it, which was why he was standing in the berth room while Starscream paced about the living area. 

Nevermind that the other Decepticons may try something. Decepticons who didn’t know about the coding, and were attempting a rescue if only to regroup from their leaders death. 

As though the very thought summoned them, a noise draws his attention to the ceiling. Red optics meet his through the slots in the vent, the screws slowly coming loose. 

The coding let him panic. Liked him to panic, even. Soundwave wasn’t often sure if that was due to Megatron’s own preference, or Shockwave’s, (or even, some of the other, long dead mech’s who’d worked on the mess of coding that ruled him.) 

Either way, he received no feedback from it when Ravage’s head poked through the vent and his spark tried to drop out of his chest. 

“Leave.” He demands immediately, in the quietest, firmest voice he can muster. 

Ravage ignored him, as he was wont to do. Soundwave’s eldest was the only one of his brood that wasn’t actually his. Was in fact, a trap from Megatron disguised as a reward. The classist explanation of understanding “How Carrier’s act when they didn’t have kids” was the excuse, given while the mechling had been literally thrown at a newly broken Soundwave. 

Ravage later told him his Carrier had died, but by then neither of them had cared. They belonged to each other, and clung hard just to get through the day. The lack of a creation code however, allowed Ravage some advantages the rest of his cassettes didn’t have. Being able to completely vanish from Soundwave’s senses was one of them. 

Hence, the panic. 

“Ravage: _ Leave.”  _ Soundwave tries again. His outlier ability allowed him to sense that only Starscream is in the hab, the seeker fiddling with their Master’s entertainment center. Two Autobots were directly outside the door, one guarding it, one Soundwave believed was distracting his new Master with some line of questioning or another. He was unable to sense Master due to the rules, and equally unwilling to try.

Either way they were short on time left unsupervised. 

Ravage dropped onto the Prime’s berth, looking at the size with mild surprise. He redirects quickly though, coming to sit before Soundwave. With the tactician standing, and Ravage sitting on the berth, they are practically optic-level to each other.

“Status?” Ravage asks, like they have all the time in the world.

Frustrated, Soundwave hissed a sigh through his vent. His eldest wouldn’t go until an explanation is given, and quickly as he can muster, he creates an information packet and sends it.

Not that he believed Ravage truly didn’t know what had happened. Of all of his cassettes, Ravage is the most resourceful. 

The beastformer doesn’t even appear to look the file over, proving Soundwave right. While he’d done his damnedest to protect the other kids, he’d been too new, too young to block any part of his situation from the cat. As a result, Ravage had grown up knowing it all, from Soundwave’s capture, to the coding, to the reason he gained siblings at Megatron’s whimsy. 

Once, when Ravage was finally grown and had proved he could protect himself, Soundwave had told him to flee.

It had been made clear he would never, and seeing Ravage’s conviction telepathically, Soundwave hadn’t tried to push him since. Not when the other cassettes had grown up as Decepticons, not when Ravage was so determined to try and see them through it all. 

“Status?” He repeated, and Soundwave immediately knew what he was after. 

“Soundwave: Autobot. Ravage: In charge of symbionts. Symbionts…” He trailed off, knowing what decision he had to make. Had known that he was going to be forced to make, since he found himself capable of making the mistake that ended his former Master’s life. “Symbionts: must separate from bond.” He said it strongly. Firmly. Even if his platted rattled a touch, even if it hurt him to his core to cut himself off from the people he loved.

They had the means to do it now, before his new Master figured anything else out. Must do it, because dragging them over to the Autobot side at this point in the war would harm them more than leaving them were they were. 

“Orders: Inform Command bonds destroyed, Soundwave compromised.” 

“And if there is no Command?” Ravage questioned, something Soundwave had anticipated. Shockwave could only handle things on his own for so long. Likewise, the remaining two halves of the Command trine weren’t seen as leaders to anyone outside of the seekers. There was only a 27 percent chance the Decepticons would recover from losing their leader and two highest ranking commanders. 

There was a significantly higher chance the entire army had descended into chaos. Which would move them onto to plan B, which was; 

“Take siblings and run.” Soundwave ordered.

“They’re yours.” Ravage countered calmly. “They need to know.” 

The panic gripped him tighter, the very idea causing his tank to lurch.  _ “Negative.”  _ He said, keeping his voice down only through the equal fear that someone would hear them. 

“I love you.” Ravage told him simply, the words cutting as sharply as the situation did. “You’ve always wanted to come back here--and you know, I know you know, that I was always going to come with you.” He paused to let his Carrier deny it, and continued only when Soundwave didn’t. 

“I am going to tell the rest. They deserve to make their own decisions.” 

There was a lot unspoken there. A lot Soundwave couldn’t say. That he loved his cassette’s despite how they had been created, adored them even though each one was one threat to be used against him, one more life Megatron dangled over his head if he didn’t comply. He would always love them, no matter what badge they wore, or what they did. All he could do was hope they’d still love him too, after the learned the truth. 

The door to the hab swung open, Optimus’s voice ringing throughout it. Starscream responded with something snappish, and just like that their time was up.  

Choked up, all Soundwave could muster was a quiet; “Ravage: Tell symbionts; I love them.” 

“Will do.” He butted his head against his Carrier’s stomach, letting his head be petted for a minute. Without making a sound, the beastformer turned and leapt back into the vent, replacing the cover easily. 

::I’ll be back.:: He promised over comms, as Soundwave smoothly turned and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

That’s how Optimus found him, head in his hands, silently mourning the reactions of sparklings he didn’t believe he’d get to see again. 

No doubt believing his distress to come from somewhere else, his master carefully, slowly, dropped a hand onto his shoulder. Squeezed. Uncaring that Starscream was right there, Soundwave leaned into the touch. Needed it. 

He wouldn’t make it through this otherwise. 

 


End file.
